calculators
by Nelauk
Summary: "Apparently the powers that be must hate me," I hear her growl, "especially when they get me stuck with YOU." ONE-SHOT


**A/N: tried to tackle arnold's character, idk if it worked out so well...**

"Apparently the powers that be must hate me," I hear her growl, "especially when they get me stuck with _you."_

_Yeah, well, I can't say that I'm too happy myself, either. _But the words don't come up. Helga's already said it for me.

You know…I _try _to see the good in people, no matter how reprehensible they might be. And I _know _that Helga's a good person, underneath all those layers of general meanness, but she _still _manages to strike a nerve within me every once in a while.

"Listen, we don't have any other choice," I sigh, trying to reason with her, although I'm pretty sure that trying to reason with somebody like Helga is about as easy as trying to move a ton of bricks with dental floss. "If Mr. Simmons paired us up, then he paired us up, Helga. We'll_ have_ to work together."

"Whatever, Football Head," she replies, brushing me off. "Just make this quick, okay? If I spend time with you any longer then I swear to criminy I'll _lose _it."

I'm not the kind of person who holds grudges, but right now really I can't help but resent Mr. Simmons a little for putting us together in the first place…doesn't he know how incompatible we are with each other? Already Helga's done nothing but complain, criticize my room ("Really, Hair Boy? An _alarm clock_ that looks like you? Didn't know you were _that _egoistic. And that wallpaper. What are you, _five?") _and then complain a little more.

I hear her fall back onto my bed with a soft thump, and then she groans loud enough so that it fills the silence in the room.

Yeah…this isn't really going well at all.

"Do you have the papers," I hear her ask, her voice a cold monotone.

"They're right here." I grab them and wave them at her. "You've asked me that question three times already, Helga."

She ignores me and rolls onto her stomach. "Whatever."

Grandpa once said that there was always going to be people out there, difficult people who sometimes made you want to tear your hair out but who you were going to have to work with anyway. One of the many things about life that we all have to go through one day, he'd say. And, well, I guess his words apply to the situation I'm stuck in right now.

So I cling to them, like a lifeline, because _believe me_, I'm going to need them more than I ever did before.

"And here's the materials," I say, placing the rulers and crayons and colored pencils onto my bed. We're supposed to be doing a project about the times tables, by creating a colorful chart with all the multiples on them. And, of course, Helga is more than willing to be as unhelpful as she can possibly can. Just like her.

"Coolio," I hear her mutter nonchalantly.

"Well, let's get started."

"Let me rest for a bit." Her voice's muffled by my blankets. "Then maybe I can help."

"Helga, be _serious. _This counts towards _both _of our grades. Doesn't that concern you at _all?"_

"Maybe." A pause. And then, "No, not really. No."

"Helga, _come on!" _I guess Gerald was right when it comes to some aspects of her. She's so difficult I wonder how _anyone _can bear trying to working with her. "This project's due tomorrow! You can't just lounge around in my room all day!"

"It's a free country," she says drowsily, defending herself. "So I can do whatever I like, _bucko_. Anyway, shut your trap for a moment. I'm trying to catch some Zs here."

She _can't _be serious. My patience with her edges near the tipping point. "Helga, it's worth _two hundred points. _Can you _please _get up from your nap and _help me?"_

"Go help yourself. I don't know anything about times tables."

"Helga, you can't be serious—"

"I really don't. Leave me alone." She grabs a pillow and clings tightly to it. "Let me slumber."

That's _it._ I can't take it anymore. If Helga's going to act like a little kid, then I'll _treat _her like one, whatever she likes it or not.

I lunge for her and grab Helga roughly by the shoulders, soliciting a cry of surprise from her. She looks shocked, as she should be. I hate to admit it, but…sometimes, when push comes to shove…well, then you have no choice but to shove.

"Can you just listen for one moment?!" I shout at her, shaking her by the shoulders. "I've been doing nearly all the work in this stupid project, and if you're going to just laze around and act like a waste of space, then fine! Go ahead! Don't come crying to me when you get held back!"

"Arnold—"

"Maybe I should just kick you out, while I'm at it! _Forget _the project! Let's just _both_ fail!" Okay, so maybe I'm overdoing it a little. But Helga…well, if you were working with her, I guarantee you'd feel just as angry as I'm feeling right now, too.

"ARNOLD!"

Helga shoves me off with all the strength she can muster, sending me stumbling and nearly crashing into the wall behind me.

"_Fine!" _she spits, her face conjuring up the most ferocious scowl I've ever seen her make. "Fine! _Fine!_ _FINE!_ I'll do the stupid project! Criminy, now will you _calm down?!"_

I hear Grandpa call up to me worriedly from downstairs. I guess our shouting roused him from his sleep…oh, great. "You all right up there, Shortman? Is she giving you any trouble?"

"I'm fine, Grandpa!" I reassure him, even though it's kind of a lie.

And then I turn my attentions back to Helga again, who is leering down at me from the bedside, her hands balled up tightly into fists, her eyes ferocious. All the supplies and papers lie scattered around her feet.

"Okay," I sigh. "Good. I'll draw the stuff out, and then you'll do the math."

"Can't _you _do the map?"

"Helga—"But then I stop myself. If I start another argument with her again then it'll go on and on and on probably, a vicious cycle. "Okay, fine. _You'll_ draw the chart and I'll do the math."

"Sounds good," she says, a content look etched onto her face.

I grab the poster board and lay it out on the floor. "Mr. Simmons says we need to go all the way up to twelve. So…"

"Are we allowed to use a calculator?" Helga prompts me. "Because that'd be a big help."

I close my eyes, shake my head. "Can't. He says he'll mark us down if we used those." _It'd be great if we could though, _I agree internally with her.

Helga looks at me like I'm the most stupidest kid in the world and rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, Arnold, Arnold," she sighs, tutting softly. "My lo—my _lowly_ friend, your naiveté truly astounds me. Like he'll ever know." She starts to get this dangerous glint in her eye…uh oh. When that glint appears, you better believe that Helga G. Pataki means business. "Doesn't hurt to bend the rules a little. Like I said, do you think the teacher will _really _notice?"

"So we're cheating, basically?"

"There's no cheating up in here, no siree!" she adds hastily, getting on the defensive again. "Oh, no. Think of it as…a way to speed things up. If we were to go the route then it'd take all night, wouldn't it?"

Okay, I hate to admit it…but there _is_ some logic behind her words. Multiplying numbers all day _would_ definitely occupy a pretty sizable amount of our time.

But then again…isn't that considered cheating in the first place? I feel like this is one of those moments, the kinds you see in the cartoons when there's a little devil and angel on some guy's shoulders, telling him not to do this but do that instead. Should I go along with Helga…or not? I mean, it does sound tempting…

"Well, Football Head?" she demands, quirking a brow and tilting her head to the side impatiently. "Are you _game?"_

"I…" Oh man…there are little storms in my mind, I just can't decide. "I…_all right. _We'll use a calculator."

_Well, Arnold…you've done it. You've finally reached a new low._

"Finally, Arnoldo here has seen the light!" Helga exclaims delightedly, pumping a triumphant fist into the air. She bounds up to me, crouches down and practically _slaps_ me on the back, which nearly sends me head first into the floor. "I knew you had it in you! I just knew it."

"Yeah…" I grunt, rubbing my back, the skin still smarting from the force of her hand. _Man _Helga can be rough sometimes… "Yeah…let's get started then."

"Okee dokie. Where's your calculator?"

"I'll get it." My back's killing me, but I get up anyway. I silently pray that Helga hasn't dislocated my spine or worse, as I go up to my desk and produce a calculator from one of the drawers.

I kneel next to her, and we both get to work. It's silent for the most part, and for the first time I notice how happy Helga looks, which is nice, I guess, although this is probably because everything's been going her way so far. As for me, well…I can't really say the same for myself. It just feels so _wrong_, what we're doing.

If guilt could manifest itself into a hand, then I swear it'd be choking me right this very minute.

Helga begins to hum to herself a cheerful little tune as she's drawing out the chart…and I begin to wonder if she was just acting all lazy before to manipulate me or something. I mean, she _is _pretty good at that kind of stuff.

"Hey, Hair Boy, get me the blue marker, will ya?" she asks, drawing out another line with the ruler.

I hand it over to her, burning with guilt…ugh, this isn't right, not right at all.

"Helga…" I begin, bracing myself a little for the outburst that's sure to follow. "About what you talked about earlier—"

She looks up swiftly, and shoots me a glare; if looks could kill, I'd be dead, probably. "This is about the whole deal with the calculator, isn't it?" Helga answers softly, narrowing her eyes. "Listen, you want to get this done, don't you?"  
"Of course I do. But I mean, Helga, this whole thing…it doesn't feel right."

I hear her inhale through her teeth as she drops the blue marker and closes her eyes, as though something's paining her. "Arnold, sometimes you make me _sick _with your little moral codes, and all that. Just…come on." She forces a smile at me. "Like I said, it doesn't hurt to bend the rules. Okay? This is only _one_ time, and then we can forget all about it."

We lock eyes with one another; there's a pleading look on Helga's face. Maybe she's right. This _will _be the only time I'll have to go against the teacher's orders…_right?_

It takes me a while, but I finally come to a verdict. The answer comes out of my mouth immediately. "No."

Next thing I know I'm being grabbed by the collar of my shirt and then she yanks me up to her, until my nose is only inches away from her scowling face. I'm scared, just for a moment, but then I remember something we were taught earlier today, and just when Helga's about to blow her top off, I quickly exclaim, "The song!"

"_Listen, you—_wait, what?" Her face softens a little, and she relaxes her grip on my shirt, just a tad bit. "What song?"

"The Multiplication Song, remember?" I tell her, frowning a little. For now, at least, I'm spared another beating from her. "The song…? We listened to it in class."

Helga blinks and slowly lets go of my shirt, and I hoist myself up onto my knees again. "The song…?" she murmurs, partly to herself. And then she begins to sing, very softly, "'One times one equals one, you see, and two times one equals two, no more…'"

"Yeah, like that!" I encourage her, relieved beyond reason that she remembers it. I start to sing as well. "'Three times one equals three, I'll bet you'll know.'"

It's so _weird_, what happens next. We're suddenly singing the song together, and soon it gets so that I'm pretty sure everyone in the boarding house can hear us belt out the multiples of five. Helga sways a little to the beat and starts to smile, _genuinely _smile, not out of malice but out of _joy, _and then I find myself smiling too, and by the time we're done singing we're both giggling like there's no tomorrow.

Me singing and laughing about the joys of multiplication. With my _worst nemesis. _The world should freeze over when that would happen, but…it doesn't. I certainly don't see anything icing over outside.

"Yeah! Yeah, exactly like that!" I chuckle, grabbing a blank sheet of paper, I can hardly hold it still, I've been giggling so much… "Just like that."

"Criminy, who would've known?" she admits, slapping a hand to her forehead in embarrassment. "Of course. The stupid song. Well, Arnoldo, I guess you _were _right…maybe we don't need the calculator after all. In fact—" she takes it and throws the thing to the wall with gusto, where it shatters into the million pieces and sends sparks and little buttons flying all over the place, "—who _needs _it!"

Well, there goes the five bucks I paid for that thing. "Uh, Helga," I ask a little tentatively. "You just…"

"…Yeah, I know," she mutters, staring at the mess she's created. "Sorry about that." And to my surprise, Helga actually sounds a little guilty, which is pretty rare for someone like her.

Really, I can't help but feel a little sorry for her. "That's all right!" I say casually, brushing the whole thing off. "They come cheap anyways. I'll get another."

"Well, _that's _a relief. I was scared you were going to go full out _psycho_ on me, Hair Boy."

"Scared?" I suddenly feel playful all of a sudden, I don't why. "Of _me?"_

"Wha?" And indignant Helga takes the words straight back into her mouth. "Me? Scared of you? _No way!_ Get over here and we'll see who's scared!"

Oh, _great. _I should've known—try to have a little fun with Helga Pataki and you'll end up getting your butt handed back to you on a silver platter. I brace myself, preparing for the worst, wishing I could take those words back.

But I guess she's got other plans, because Helga tackles me and—it gets even _weirder_, let me tell you. She decides to poke me all over the place instead, and suddenly we're both tumbling like puppies all over the carpet, giggling just as much as we were during the song.

"S-stop it!" Her hair gets in my face, my mouth, and I'm sniggering all the while, so my words are barely intelligible. "Helga—you're killing me!"

"Who's scared now!" Helga pants, and then she laughs again, and well—I have to admit. I _really_ have to admit it; her laugh is kinda cute. "Not me!"

"J-Just—get off!" I poke her on the cheek, which emits another giggle from her. "Your hair's all over my face!"

"Then suffer!" There's more giggling and poking between us, until we both finally tire out and roll off each other. Silence fills the room afterwards, save for our panting. Helga and I gaze up at the clouds together, through the skylight, watch flecks of dust dance in the sunbeams.

"That…that was _weird…" _I gasp to her, and it's true. First we're arguing and then _out of the blue_ we're singing songs and poking each other for no reason whatsoever. And the fact that I'm doing all of this with the person who is supposed to hate me makes it all the more stranger. The world's a strange place, as Grandpa would say. And I guess he's right. "What was _that_ all about?"

"I don't know, Football Head. I don't know." Helga catches her breath, and then she's quiet again, as we both try to comprehend what the heck just happened.

After a while I hear her roll onto her side, towards me. "Arnold…"

Her voice is weirdly gentle, enough for me to turn around to face her, because I've never heard her use that kind of tone before. "Yeah?"

"I…" She goes quiet again—wait, is that a _blush _I see on her cheeks? "I…I think we should get back to work. On the project, I mean."

...Nah. I'm probably just seeing things.


End file.
